


There is No Pain You Are Receding

by evanescentwoodnymph



Series: Widowmaker Drabbles [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bloody Injury, Self-Harm, free-form
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 02:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14033763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanescentwoodnymph/pseuds/evanescentwoodnymph
Summary: A distant ship smoke on the horizonYou are only coming through in wavesYour lips move but I can't hear what you're saying





	There is No Pain You Are Receding

Rising from her stretches and warm up, she changes the track, breathing evenly as ever. Her lungs seem to adapt despite the slower heartbeat. 

That much she can handle. 

Almost as slow as her own pulse, the music begins its steady rhythm. She tentative. Not like before. No command. No life. But she goes through the motions. Her face remains stoic as she reaches out into an arabesque. The music builds melancholy and desperate. She dances vicariously through it but she feels nothing. 

The wood from her pointes gently knock against the wood of the floor as she leaps, and falls. Not through artistic expression. Her knees gave out. It doesn’t matter. She can get new ones. The aching and swelling that follows is welcomed. 

A breath and a sound, almost like she’s frustrated. But it’s experimental. Maybe making a noise would help her feel something other than the arthritis. 

Of course, it doesn’t work. 

She fights with the dull buzzing in her brain. The quiet noise, keeping her even. Keeping her treading. She tries to make it louder, whipping through fouette after fouette. She stays center, hardly travelling. She keeps it up as the musical phrase repeats and repeats its plea. 

But she still treads. 

Nothing breaks. Nothing ever does. 

Perfect technique with nothing behind it. No pain. No hatred. No remorse. 

It keeps going. Her joints hurt, at least. She can count on that. She can push herself to make it hurt more. 

Close enough. 

She restricts her movements, as if she is dancing in shackles, maintaining complete control. She doesn’t tremor at all. She’s nearly floating. Her toenail breaks and she can feel the build up of blood, but she dances through the stinging. It’s welcome. 

She jetes and glissades once more, breaking her pantomime, almost convinced she feels a snap. 

But she’s still treading. 

Finally, she falters as the music comes to a ritardando, her lip is between her teeth as her knees threaten to give once more.   
  
Nothing comes of it. She finishes with a demi plie. She barely broke a sweat. Her breath is even. Her head is buzzing. Nothing surfaces. Nothing at all. Her thoughts and emotions are merely holograms that she can plainly see, but cannot touch. Low definition, albeit. Threatening to fade and be truly forgotten. 

She removes her shoes, and a small trail of blood follows her outside of the home studio. 

**Author's Note:**

> that's the end of this fic. remember to rate the fic, comment the fic, and subscribe if you wanna see fics similar to this one. see ya.  
> title and summary is from pink floyd's 'comfortably numb.'


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